Constant
by AuroraRoseane
Summary: COMPLETELY AU WITH ORIGINAL CHARACTERS. RATED M JUST IN CASE. Lennie is just barely holding it together. She'll never let them in on it though. At 22, she's seen more than she ever thought she'd have to, and done things she's never dreamed of. But it's all about survival now, and she'll do anything to protect her group. Anything. So don't get in her way.
1. Chapter 1

Constant - Chapter One

**HI GUYS! SO THIS IS MY VERY FIRST FIC EVER AND I'D JUST LIKE TO SAY THANKS FOR GIVING ME A CHANCE. THIS IS COMPLETELY AU WITH ORIGINAL CHARACTERS SET IN THE WORLD OF KIRKMAN'S WALKING DEAD. I MIGHT BRING IN SOME OF HIS CHARACTERS LATER ON, IF THIS GOES WELL. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW, YOUR FEEDBACK WILL GREATLY INFLUENCE ME! XOXO**

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><p>To say it happened overnight would be a bit of an over statement, and yet not. One minute it's just an isolated case here, one there, and a few weird stories on the new about new age cannibalism, complete with an expo on the Donner party. But then it's <em>everywhere<em>. The east coast, the west, up north and flooding the south, spreading from country to country until it starts jumping continents. At least that's what I'm guessing. When the news finally went off air we lost a lot more than just weather updates. But one thing I do know, young, old, weak or strong. No one was safe. No one _is_ safe. Death was once just an occasional reminder of or mortality. Now, death is everything. It's everywhere. _Inescapable_. Death is constant. If only the dead would consistently stay dead.

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><p>I should cut my hair. It's far too long. Inconvenient. Dangerous even. But I can't, I won't. It's down to my elbows now, wavy and untamed. The way it was when I was younger and refused to have it brushed. <em>My little Pocahontas<em>, my mother would say, _my warrior princess. _And I believed it. With my dark hair and sun-tanned skin, I could pass for Native American. And what little girl wouldn't relish in being a called a princess? Certainly I was one, if my mother said so. If only I could be a naïve 6-year old again. _A warrior princess_.

I guess I still could be. Leighton, to my dismay, insists on calling me Princess, although he usually doesn't mean it kindly. I can definitely be considered a warrior. You'd have to be, to still be alive these days. But while Pocahontas fought with words and niceties, I use swords and knives. Occasionally a bow. Really I use whatever is within reach and can get the job done. And I don't so much fight as I slay. Demolish. Exterminate. There we go. _Lennox Rae Gibson, Exterminating Princess of the Zombie Apocalypse_. Lennie, for short. I need to work on my official title.

I'm pulled from my musings when the car jolts to a stop. We're here. I go through the list I've complied in my head again. _Food, obviously, warmer clothes and blankets, sheets, anything, any medical supplies, chocolate and pickles for El because pregnant women are crazy disgusting, condoms because we don't need anyone else getting knocked up, tampons and baby stuff. _This is going to be a long winter.

"Hey Princess, you joining us or what?" Leighton, of course. He, Wes, Dillon and Leah are all standing outside the cars waiting for me. I roll my eyes and step out of the car, taking a look at our surroundings. We stand in a desolate parking lot of what used to be a strip mall, containing a dollar store, a second hand children's shop, a pharmacy and a small department store with a bar and grill on the end. All in all it still seems relatively put together, untouched. No _Cads_ in sight. Which means they're probably all still inside. _Great_. When I'm done with my quick scan, I bring my eyes back too my group, The Perkins family. Or what's left of them. All blonde hair, blue eyes, Roman features and tough as nails. Talk about good genes.

I give them a nod, and we spread out to clear the area, moving like trained soldiers, silent and deadly. In a way we are professionals. We have to be, to have survived this long. Leah stays with the cars, keeping watch. Dillon and I move towards the pharmacy while Leighton and Wes go into the dollar store. There's only one inside, an middle-aged man who been dead for awhile. I take him out swiftly with my hunting knife and survey the rest of the shop. I was wrong before, this area has been ransacked before. There are gaps on the selves where bandages and ibuprofen sat, most of it cleared away. But items like toothpaste and razors are still in their places. Whoever was here before, was here early on, back when you didn't think about grabbing things for personal hygiene. _Lucky for us_, I think. I turn the corner into a another aisle and my jaw drops. Soap. Real soap. Shampoo and conditioner. _Deodorant_. This place is a goldmine.

I've started filling up my bag when Dil comes out from behind the counter. He has prescription bottles in his hands and a smile on his face. Apparently this place really is a goldmine. "It's almost completely stocked. They're got antibiotics and painkillers, even birth control. It's heaven. Go grab the others." I smile and nod at him then stick my head out the floor door and give a quick whistle. Wes and Leah com into view, jogging over to me from the cars.

"D's in candyland. This place is stocked," I tell them. "Pull the Focus up to the door and start filling up the trunk." Wes heads inside while Leah moves the car, and takes over the watch. I scan my eyes around the parking lot, looking for anything suspicious. It's all clear, and I turn to Leah. "Where's you idiot brother?" I ask. She replies with a smirk and a "Which one?" Being the baby sister with 6 older brothers certainly gave her sass, though it didn't diminish with the loss of 3 of them.

"His Royal High-ass." I reply with a grin. To say Leighton and I were friends would be an outright lie. We're more tolerating-allies.

"He's clearing out the baby store. Figured we need stuff for El in there." I nod and start walking towards the mentioned storefront. He left the door wide open and I see a little shop bell laying just inside the threshold. _At least he ain't stupid_, I think to myself, and step inside. The smell of dust and mildew almost overwhelm me but I brush it off and continue on. _At least it doesn't smell like death._ I don't think I could handle and _Cad_ baby. Just to my left is a shelf filled with pregnancy books. Hopefully they'll have something on home birthing, because I'm pretty sure we're all clueless on the subject.

"Find anything interesting?" I turn and look at him, head to toe. I'll never admit it to anyone ever, but Leighton is definitely the better looking Perkins brother. At 6'3" he towers over my lowly 5'1". And if that isn't enough, he's incredibly well-built. This along with the dirty blonde hair, sun-kissed tan skin, deep blue eyes, and strong features, would make any girl wilt. Except me of course. I can't stand him. But I will look at him when I'm bored.

"Yeah," I respond. "Any cribs back there?" He nods.

"You should probably pick though. You'll know what she'd want." There are few things in life that Leighton Perkins is afraid of. His sister-in-law is one of them. And returning home with an inadequate crib for her unborn child would probably be the death of him. He's right of course. I do know what she'll like. We had been talking babies long before the end of civilization. That's what best friends in their 20s do. It's all babies, and marriage, and 'I'm SO glad I dumped him when I did's. Sometimes I forget how trivial life used to be.

I nod my response, and tell him to start looking for bottle, formula, diapers and wipes. I'm hoping even he won't be able to mess that up. I'm just about to walk back out of the door, to pull the pickup closer to the door when I hear it. _It_ being the moans, the dragging of Cad walking, and the evidence of what's about to be a passing herd. Leah hears it just as I do. Our eyes meet before she runs into the pharmacy and quickly shuts the door. I mirror her, spinning on my heel and shutting the door behind me, looking around to see what I can shove up against the windows. Leighton comes around a corner with a questioning look, but he ducks as a few geeks pass in front of the window. Luckily they don't see us.

He motions towards the back of the store and we creep along silently to an open door. It's a break room. Or a storage room, depending on which side of the room you're looking at. I shut the door behind me and just barely get out of the way before he's moving a couch in front of it. Who needs manners when you're worrying about survival?

It's dark in here. There aren't any windows, which is a good thing really. But my flashlight is out in the car, and I'm not about to waste matches just so I can look at Leighton's pretty face. It would probably help to stop the shaking though. That was close. _Too close._

I hear movement beside me. I think it's him, but I'm not entirely sure. Did he check this room? He had to of, right?

"It's just me." Apparently he's a mind reader now. That's just great. I'm sure that if I could see him, he'd be giving me his are-you-for-real-right-now face. Even in the dark I'm familiar with it.

I'm hoping he can't hear what else I'm thinking. It's times like these, when I'm in the dark, that it all catches up to me. All the blood, and the loss, and the screams. My worries. I hide them, hold them all in, until I'm in the dark, where no one can see. But even then, I'm always alone, out of earshot. Not this time. He's here. Lord help me.

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><p><strong>AGAIN, THANKS FOR READING!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Constant - Chapter Two

This room is too small. I never used to be claustrophobic, but these days being trapped could mean death. It's too dark in here. When one of your senses is wiped out, the others go into overdrive. My skin prickles at every little sound. Though the walls are built of brick and are really quite sturdy, I can hear the herd passing by outside. I didn't get a good look at it's size. Who knows how long I'll be stuck in here. With Leighton. Ugh.

My skin is on fire. I'm burning up. Logically I know that's it's only in the low 50s outside and has been for days, but I'm so hot. It's like a can't breathe. Panic. I'm panicking. Don't panic. What's that my mother alway used to tell me? _Think happy thoughts_. Think. Puppies, kittens, the summer breeze. The smell after it rains. The smell of the dead. Of dead puppies and kittens. This isn't working.

I can feel my chest heaving with labored breaths. I'll start hyperventilating soon, if I can't calm down. But how on earth am I supposed to do that, stuck in this box, in the dark, with _Cads_ surrounding us and no idea what's going to happen or when we'll get out, if we get out, oh God, what if I die today, what if this is it and I die in this drywall box next to Leighton Perkins and I never see Jax again or El or that freaking baby she just has to have in the middle of the ducking apocalypse and I'll never get to catch-

"What's wrong?" I've been so wrapped up in my own head I didn't even realize that Leighton had pulled out his own flashlight and switched it on, pointing it towards the ceiling to illuminate the room. _Of course he didn't forget his._ He's looking at me like I've gone crazy. I probably have.

"Nothin'" I snap back. It comes out as more of a squeak, though, and I suddenly hate myself for showing weakness around him. I'll never hear the end of it. I dart my eyes around the room, looking anywhere but at him. But I can hear him moving around.

"No. What is it?" He's standing right next to me. What the hell? Avoiding each other's personal space is a big part of the invisible, unspoken truce we've established. When I move to step away he grabs ahold of my arm, and I look up at him in astonishment. I'm pretty sure this is a serious act of war against our rocky alliance. "Len, what is it?" His face is softer, eyes wide. Like he cares about what he's asking. For a moment I actually think he might be concerned. But I shake my head. Of course he's not.

"I said I'm fine." I pull my arm away. "Why the hell do you care anyway?"

The look on his face is replaced with a scowl. "I care if I get killed because you can't get your fucking shit together," he growls out. "You shouldn't even fucking be here. It's too soon."

I take a step back and scoff. Please. Who else was going to come on this run? El's six months pregnant, Becky and Mel are looking after the kids, Chris is out hunting leaving Ry and Patrick on the wall and Tif is-Tif is off her feet for awhile. I was the only choice. Not to mention it's always been the five of us on runs. Always.

"Fuck off Leighton. I'm the best we've got and you know it." It's true. I've killed more _Cads_ than anyone else, and I've got the best instincts. Who knew that being naturally suspicious would being a good thing at the end of the world?

"Not today you aren't. You're barely keeping it together. Should've stayed home. You need more-"

"So help me, Leighton, if you say 'time' I'm going to punch you in the throat." Time? Ha. Time isn't going to fix it. Not this.

"It's only been two days. He almost killed you." His face has returned to looking concerned. I don't like it when he looks at me like that.

"I said I'm fine," I say with a tone that implies to drop it. And he does, thankfully.

It's then that I realize my breathing has returned to normal. Mostly anyway. I turn away from the man I loathe to scan the room again, actually looking at it this time. Along with the couch that had been pushed against the door, the space contains a kitchenette, a small table with two chairs and a desk covered with papers to the right, and what looks to be boxes of merchandise waiting to be place on the showroom floor on the left. I decide to check the kitchenette cabinets first. There's only three sets of doors, along with a drawer. The space under the sink was left open to hold the trash can. Grabbing the flashlight out of Leighton's hand, I start with the drawer first, finding an array of plastic silverware and an assortment of condiment packets. All useful. I shove the drawer's contents into my bag and move to the shelving below.

I can feel his eyes watching me. Like he's waiting on me to crack. But I won't. _I won't._ Not now. Not in front of him.

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><p>It's been hours. Four to be exact. Which really doesn't seem like too long, but do you know what four hours of complete silence, waiting to know whether or not you'll be eaten alive, is like? Trust me, it's not fun. Even better is when you have all the thoughts I have running through your mind a mile a minute. At least I'm keeping my breathing steady. Sort of. It's not like it matters now anyway. He knows. He's realized I'm losing it. Thank God he's decided not to comment on it. For now. Probably because we're currently in a life or death situation, and getting into a heated argument about the bottomless pit that is my broken mind, wouldn't exactly be a good idea. Leighton and I tend to get loud when we quarrel. And pull weapons. Hot-blooded and all that.<p>

I can still hear them moving outside. Jesus, how big is this herd? It's got to be getting dark out by now. Driving this far out from home had taken longer than expected. We didn't arrive until almost three in the afternoon. But we had planned for that. The others won't be expecting us back until tomorrow anyway. So they won't be alarmed until then. Hopefully the _Cads _won't damage the cars too much. That'd just be perfect.

I hear Leighton shifting around on the couch. We turned the flashlight off ages ago, to conserve the battery, so I can't see him. I wonder if he's trying to catch some Z's. I don't blame him. Sleep doesn't come easy for anyone these days. You've gotta grab it while you can. Of course he took the couch though. Chivalry is dead. Here I am, back to the wall, knees pulled up, with a knife in on hand, the other resting on my thigh holster, and he's taking a nap. But like I said, I can't really blame him. I can't even remember the last time I got any real sleep. It's had to of been two days, at least. Which is presumably another really bad idea, considering there are four other people counting on me to have their backs at the moment. Well, one. But he's asleep. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

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><p><em>Someone is grabbing my shoulders<em>. My mind races back to that night. With Matt. That fucker. I knew something was off about him the minute he showed up. _My shirt's ripped open, jeans undone and low on my hips, his hands are around my throat. Tiffany is whimpering somewhere nearby. I can't see. Can't breathe. He's squeezing the life out of me. And then he's gone._ Accept that he's not. Not this time. He's still got ahold of me. I reach for my gun, the knife that I dropped, but I can't. He's holding onto my arms too tight. I open my mouth to scream but barely get half a sound out before he's covering it with his hand. He let go of my arm. I punch him in what I think is his jaw and start thrashing around wildly. I still can't see, it's too dark. I'm just back on my feet when I'm abruptly tackled to the ground. His hands fasten my wrists above my head and his knee rests between my thighs. _This is not happening. You will not do this to me. _I move restlessly, trying to get loose, to free my arms, or get a leg in between us. I'm wild. With fear and anger. This is NOT happening. And then I feel the stinging of a slap on my face. He hit me. _He hit me. _I realize then, that he's saying something. He _has_ been saying something, this whole time.

"Len. LENNIE! It's just me. You're fine. It's okay, you're okay. It's just me." Leighton. And then I burst into tears.

**THANKS FOR READING. PLEASE REVIEW :) XOXO**


	3. Chapter 3

Constant - Chapter Three

I don't think he knows what he's supposed to do. Hell, I don't even know how to deal with a crying person, unless they're under the age of five. He kinda just freezes up. I almost don't notice, what with the wracking sobs leaving my body, except that he's the only other person here and I've found myself a bit attached to him at the moment. He let's go of my wrists and sits up, straddling my thighs, before he let's out a loud sigh. I keep crying. I can't help it. It's like opening the freaking floodgates. I need to calm down. I need to stop.

Maybe if I focus on the baby. I love babies. My whole life used to be centered around babies. Well, one baby. He's almost 3 now. And _alive_. That's what's important. It doesn't matter what happens to me, or anyone else, as long as Jax is alright. He's the only one who matters. That's one thing Leighton and I can agree on. He and Jax get on surprisingly well considering my obvious distain for the latter. Jax and I are usually so in sync when it comes to how we're feeling. We're a matched set, even though he's not really mine. I've basically raised him from birth; what he feels, I feel, and likewise. But not on the subject of Leighton.

Leighton. Who's currently still sitting on top of me. He's probably just making sure that I don't start flailing around like a lunatic again. Wouldn't that be great? He's rubbing small circles into the skin above my right hip with his thumb. It feels nice. No it doesn't. What am I thinking?

I start to clam down, trying to inhale deeply, and shove his hand away. I can't hear anything moving outside. Maybe the Cads are gone? But then why are we still here? Maybe I still can't hear correctly over my heart pounding in my ears.

"Sorry I hit you." It comes out quietly, barely even a whisper. I wouldn't of heard it if he hadn't been right here. I nod. He can't see it. Where's that damn flashlight? Maybe it's better not having it for a minute or two more. My chest is heaving with my labored breaths, my cheeks are wet, my throat dry. Yeah, better without. Not that I care what Leighton thinks of me. I couldn't care less. But he's already witnessed my vulnerability, he doesn't need to see it too. We are so going to have to talk about this when we get back. I'll be lucky if they ever let me leave again. "You shouldn't have come." Whoop, there it is.

Suddenly the fire is back. "You can get off me now." He stands and moves around the room. I sit up and suddenly the space is brighter. He's turned the flashlight back on, and I can feel him staring me down. I refuse to look at him. I search around for my missing knife on the floor. _Ah, there you are. _I put it back in it's sheath in my side. My back is stiff from being on the ground. I stretch out my spine and roll my shoulders, learning that I also have a crick in my neck. Who knew the end of the world would have me missing my Serta?Ignoring the pain, I decide that if he's going to keep glaring at me, I'm going to do the same.

The first thing I notice are the bloody claw marks across his jaw and down his neck. Those weren't there before. _Opps, my bad._ He shouldn't of tried to wake me. I continue my examination with his clothing and hair. Both are ruffled and dirty, from sleep and time. Whose aren't these days? Then I move to his eyes. I can barely make out the steel blue orbs in this light, but I know they're still on me. He's looking at me intently, curiously. Like he's trying to figure out what's running through my mind. _Trust me bro, you don't wanna know_.

I glance down at the marks my nails have left on his skin once more, and mumble out something resembling a "Sorry," before I move to stand. I'm lightheaded and dizzy. _When was the last time I ate something? _Or maybe it's the lingering sensitivity to my dreams. Nightmares. Definitely nightmares. He quirks an eyebrow at me. I'm not exactly the apologetic type.

I'm standing a little more steadily now, and resolved that I will not be sitting down again until I plop my ass into the seat of that car. I won't be getting back up otherwise. I lean against the wall and put both hands behind my back. God, I'm tired. I have no idea how long I was out, but I'm guessing it was a short while. And I won't be sleeping again anytime soon if _that_ is the result.

I hear a "Here," and an object is flying towards my head. I catch it one handed and look down. A granola bar. From my bag. I look up. He's digging through it like he owns it. _Guess we're crossing all the boundaries today. _He glances up at me again, then down, then up, in quick succession. "Do you wan—"

"No." I know what he's going to ask. Clearly I spoke too soon about the boundaries. And there is no way in hell I'm going to talk to Leighton Perkins about my problems, certainly not about my _feelings. _I don't even like to think about my emotions, much less talk about them. Not going to happen. Not with him. Probably not with anyone.

"You should—"

"No, Leighton. No. I already know I'm fucked up, I don't need you weighing in on the matter too," I say looking down at the floor. He sighs again, loudly.

"We're all fucked up." Ha. No shit, Sherlock. He's still got his hand in my bag, leaning on the edge of the couch. "We'll catch him."

I snap my head up to look him in the eye. "You should of killed him when you had the chance." He furrows his brows at me and drops the bag onto the seat behind him, taking a step forward.

"Sorry, Princess, I was a little more concerned about the two bleeding girls laying in front of me."

"I wasn't bleeding," I bite out. There's that fire again. Sometimes it just pulls out of nowhere.

"Sure as hell looked like it. Had to make sure you weren't dying."

Since when the fuck is that his problem? "I don't remember asking you to give a shit. I was fine. You should've killed him." Since when am I the type to get angry about someone _not _killing someone?

He starts stalking towards me, like he does when we _really _start to go at each other. "_Sorry_ if I was worried about making sure you were alright. You weren't exactly looking like you were winning a beauty pageant. It's not like I was trying to let him get away." He growls out the last bit. He standing right in front of me now, looking down like I'm more than just physically beneath him.

I stand up straight so I'm in his face, as much as I can be. "I was _fine. _You let him get away. How do I know you didn't do it on purpose? _You_ were the one who brought him into camp. _You're_ the one who was getting all buddy-buddy with him the past few months. _You're _the one who suggested he take Riane out on that run," I cry out. He takes a step back, his eyes going wide, his face slack, before returning to a mask of anger. Then he's in my face again, so close I can feel his breath on my cheeks.

"You think I would do that?! That I would fucking do that?! After what happened to Leah? What the hell is wrong with you? I was trying to help you, you fucking bitch! I—"

"I never asked you for help! I never asked you for anything! I should've just left you out on that road. All you've done is—"

He scoffs at me. "Yeah right. Like you would leave your precious Patrick out there to die." I can see it in his expression that he immediately regrets what he's said. But it's too late. He went too far.

"Fuck you Leighton. You don't know anything." But he does. He was there, the whole time. A reluctant witness to my disastrous first love. Fucking high school. Can someone please explain to me how after five years of no contact, moving to another state, and a fucking apocalypse, people from my _fucking high school _end up at my front door. I must have really pissed someone off in another life to get this much bad karma.

I'm fuming now. My breathing is ragged and my chest is heaving. Fucking Leighton. Fucking Patrick. Fuck all of them.

"I didn't—" He stops. We both freeze. A gunshot?

Our eyes meet briefly before he's rushing towards the door, ready to push the couch out of the way. His hand is on the knob before I can grasp his arm. "We can't-"

He turns and those steel eyes burrow into mine. I get it. I really do. All that remains of his family is out there. I would do the same, if it was my family. If I thought they were still alive.

"We don't know what's out there. That shot will have drawn them back, if they'd even left at all. We can't."

But clearly he doesn't care, as he throws the door open and strides out, machete in one hand, knife in the other. Fuck. I can't just let him go by himself. Even if I felt like killing him myself 30 seconds ago. I already have enough marks against my soul, I don't need him to be another one. I arm myself with my knife and the spare I keep in my boot, gun in it's holster.

It's daylight out, early morning I think. He's already out the front door, cautiously moving across the parking lot. The _Cads_ are gone it looks like. Guess they have been for while. I step over the threshold and out into the open air. The truck is still in it's place. So is the Focus. But the door to the pharmacy is wide open. _Godammit. _We would've heard the screams, wouldn't we? Where are they?

Leighton is about twenty feet ahead of me when my ears perk up. Someone is talking. Arguing. Where? I scan around. There. Inside the bar and grill. Someone's in there. He hears it too. We agree silently to head over, and soon we're in place on either side of the door. Weapons up, ready to fight, if we have to. I'll open it, he'll go in first. I check to see if he's ready, and with a nod I swing the door open.

We're inside in less than a second. Leah and Wes are on the floor with a brunette girl, looming over someone. _Dillon._ He's bleeding from somewhere on his upper body. He's still moving around. That's good. The girl is crying, saying she's "So sorry," over and over. She did that? I don't see a gun anywhere near her. Where's—

I hear the click of a gun cocking next to my ear. Great. Just great.

"Put 'em down, _now_."

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><p><strong>ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER, I'M SORRY. THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REVIEW. XOXO<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Constant - Chapter Four

**SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS A DAY LATE AND A BIT SHORTER THAN USUAL. MY FAMILY WAS UP VISITING THIS WEEKEND, PLUS I'M IN THE MIDDLE MOVING. THANKS FOR READING AND REMEMBER TO REVIEW! XOXO**

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><p>The voice is male. Gruff, deep. <em>Authoritative<em>. I look at to Leighton, a few feet ahead of me. Whatever we do, we need to do together. Now would be the exact time _not_ to start clashing. He nods and turns his attention back to the others, focusing on his bloodied brother. Damn. I really could've used a good fight right about now. I sigh loudly and drop my arms, tossing my knives to the side. Leighton does the same with his weapons, then reaches to the waist band of his jeans, removing the 45 tucked there, before setting it down and kicking it away. Reluctantly I unholster my own 9mm and kick it away. Leighton starts towards his family when he stranger calls out.

"Wait." He's finally in my view now. Late 20s, dark hair, deeply tanned skin, maybe 6'3" and built. Hot. If the Perkins could pass as movie stars, this guy was a god. "Anything else?" Yes. But I'm not going to tell him that. When neither of us answer he moves towards Leighton, intent on frisking him. He keeps the gun trained on me and darts his eyes between us. Sea green. _Gorgeous_. Wait. No. What the hell is happening to my brain right now?

Satisfied that Leighton is unarmed, he directs his attention to me. Fantastic. He'll find the small gun in the waistband of my pants, and the other knife in my other boot. Yeah, I may be a tad bit over armed, but there are _zombies_. Anything could happen. He barely makes a move before Leighton turns to stare him down. "Don't you fucking touch her." He snarls. I've only heard him do that one other time. It was with Leah, and that guy ended up dead.

He looks at Leighton then back at me. He's actually looking at me now, as a person and not as a threat, and trains the gun on Leighton. "He do that to you?" Do what? My eyes widen. I'd forgotten what I must look like. Split lip, black eye, and hand print sized bruising around my neck, all only two days old. Leighton wasn't kidding about that beauty pageant. Good thing he can't see the rest of me. I shake my head and he lowers the gun. He actually looked concerned for a second there. Weird.

We all move towards the others, Leighton rushing ahead while tall, dark and dreamy and I hang back a bit. Just because his good looking doesn't mean I'm not being cautious.

As we get closer I can see that D's been hit in the shoulder. Nothing serious, but it probably still hurts like a bitch. Somebody's got some really bad aim, if that was supposed to be a kill shot. The girl. I examine her again. She's 16, maybe 17. Same dark hair, tanned skin, and green eyes, pretty. Siblings. She's still blubbering on about how sorry she is, though she's calmed down some with the mini showdown drama a minute ago.

"You did this?" I ask her. She looks to me and nods, streaks down her face from crying. I shake my head and let out a huff. "Of course you'd go and shoot the fucking medic."

"Watch it. She's just a kid," Dreamy says to me. His face is the same stone cold it was in the beginning. All traces of prior concern have vanished. Good.

"Then she shouldn't be carrying around a gun she can't handle," I bite out, and stare him down. In this moment I'm glad I dealt with my emotions earlier. Now I can push them down and be the ruthless bitch who'll get my people home. Without breaking my gaze I soften my voice a bit and ask, "You alright D? Clean shot?"

"Yeah," he says, voice pained. "Through and through. Needs stitched up. El is gunna freak." Freak is putting it likely. I know pregnant women have crazy hormones, but that girl is _crazy_.

"Alright. I can do it in the car. Let's pack up and get going."

Dreamy jumps at that. "You're not-"

"What the hell happened anyway?" Leighton says interrupting him.

Leah finally decides to speak up. "We were looking for you. The _Cads_ were all gone but neither of you came out. I figured you'd stayed in that baby store, but Dil wanted to clear out all the shops again just in case. We'd barely just walked in here when we heard you two yelling at each other, but Dil was walking around the counter. She just popped out of nowhere."

"I-I t-thought you were a _Walker_," Girly adds.

Leighton rolls his eyes. "You know you're supposed to aim for the head, right?"

"Back off. You should just be glad she missed."

Wait. "You could hear is yelling from all the way over here?" Somehow I feel like this is important.

"Ha! When can't we hear you two yelling?" Wes shoots out. True. Very true.

"Don't matter if y'all heard us, matters if _they_ heard us. And they certainly heard that gunshot. We gotta move," Leighton points out.

I nod my head in agreement. "Wes you go grab the truck. Leah, grab the bags. Leighton. Get him up. Anything left in the pharmacy?"

"Nah, threw it in the tr—runk of the car when we came out." Dillon manages as his younger brother pulls him up off of the ground, none too gently.

Dreamy stalks towards us again. "You're not going anywhere. My sister—"

"Your sister is going to die if you don't start heading out. It's her fault we gotta cut and run without the things we need," I put in, glaring with my no-nonsense bitch face. "So move your ass before I make you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, like you're—"

"Becks. Let's just go." Girly walks up and places her hand on her brothers arm. "Please. We need to go." It's then that I notice how pleading her eyes are. Tired eyes. How dirty their skin and clothes actually are. Far beyond the day and half of grime the rest of us are sporting. They've been on the road awhile. I try not to pity them. She did shoot Dil. He gives her a hard look and opens his mouth to respond, but Wes comes running back through the door, eyes panicked.

"They're coming. We need to go. NOW." If he could see them from the parking lot, then they're too close. Dreamy, Becks, and this girl would never make it on foot. Not with a herd that size.

Leighton is already helping Dillon out the door. Leah is running around picking up anything useful as fast as she can, and Wes darts out the door to start the Focus. But I stand there, looking at the small family in front of me, looking at each other. It's the same look I would give my brother, if he were here. If he were alive. It's the one Leighton, and Leah, and Wes, and Dillon would give each other. The one full of hopelessness, and fear, and togetherness. In that moment they are the same as us all. And I make a split second decision that could cost us our lives. "Get in the truck. We gotta go."

Then both turn to look as me, so fast you'd think they'd get whiplash. But I keep my eyes on his. He's trying to figure me out. Trying to see if I'm for real. If he can trust me, with his life and his sister's. The other's are outside, yelling for me to hurry up. We have to go. I can hear the crunch of smashing skulls and the car doors slam. They're here. But I keep staring into eyes staring at me. And he nods.


	5. Chapter 5

Constant - Chapter 5

Any second now. Any second and they're going to pull the cars over and lay into me. We're a far enough distance away from that herd now. It's safe enough to stop moving for a minute or two. There's time for an argument. So, I'm expecting it. Any second now.

I've ridden in the back of this truck plenty of times in the past year, but I don't think I'll ever get used to the icy gusts of winds slapping my face. I should be in the cab with Wes but there wasn't time for that. There was barely time to reach the truck at all. It was another close call in the endless stream of close calls. I lost a knife when it got stuck in the skull of a _Cad_ that was trying to climb into the truck bed with us. I think Girly dropped her bag. Yeah, it was close.

He looking at me again. I'm avoiding his eyes but i can _feel_ it. He's still trying to figure me out. _Good luck with that one_. I would do the same if the roles were reversed. Anyone who helps another these days has motivation. A reason. Not me. I can't for the life of me figure out why I said those words to a stranger. Two strangers. One of whom shot D. _"Get in the truck. We gotta go."_ What was I thinking? That's exactly what Leighton will ask once he pulls over the car. I'm sure there will be a few cuss words in there, but the thesis will be the same. What were you thinking? The answer? I have no idea.

Maybe I could plead insanity. I did just have what amounts to a mental breakdown, and a highly traumatic experience, all within the past few days. And I had a witnesses. Insanity could work. Or duress? I could say they threatened me. Nah. No one would buy that. But insanity? It's plausible. It's a miracle more of us haven't lost our minds before now. Or maybe we have. Maybe we're all nuts. I would believe that.

"What's your name?" I'm pulled from my thoughts. It's Girly. She's looking only a tad bit relieved and much more apprehensive. She's learned it then too. Everybody wants something.

"Len. Lennie. Goddess Divine. Take your pick," I suss out.

He scoffs, my eyes fly to his, but he's elbowed in the rib cage, drawing his attention back to the girl at his side. "I'm Olivia. This is my brother, Beckett." I nod. "Tha-thank you. For saving us."

I look between them now. His face is blank, hers full of hope. I nod again. "'M not in the habit of leaving people to die. Usually." That's true. For the most part. Maybe that's it. Maybe I just didn't want any more black marks against my soul. That's reasonable right?

Her face falls, but she tries to play it off. "Well-thank you anyway."

My eyes find his face again. Beckett's. Still blank but with stormy eyes. Stormy sea green. It's glorious. Maybe that's it. Maybe I saved them because I find him attractive. Oh yeah, they'd love that.

"Where are we going?" she asks me, her face a mix or curiosity and worry. I open my mouth to answer her but then the truck suddenly comes to a stop. I have to hold onto the side of the truck to stop from colliding with the back window. Why'd we stop? Oh. This is it. I hear a car door open and slam shut, but Wes hasn't moved except to roll down his window. _Leighton_. Yeah, this is the part where I get chewed out for saving lives. Or risking mine, ours. Or both. Probably both. Except that I don't. I hear the heavy stepping of boots coming towards me and then he's in my view. There's a streak of blood on his cheek, but that could be anyones. His eyes are black, no blue remains, and his jaw is tense. He's furious. Irate. In all the years I've known him, Leighton has never been this pissed before. It's terrifying. But whatever it is he wants to say, to scream at me, he holds it in. For now. "Leah needs help with D." That's all he says. That's it. It must be worse than I thought. That blood must be Dillon's.

I stand up and swing a leg over the side of the truck bed, jumping to the ground. I turn towards the driver's window and give Wes an encouraging look. He looks at me with doubt and concern. Leighton speaks to him over my head. "We gotta get back. Try to keep up," and he walks away. The 13inch height difference makes it difficult for me to match his strides, and he's walking fast. I can feel his anger radiating off his body. God, he's livid.

We reach the car and he opens the driver door, sliding in in one quick movement. I open the back door and peek in. Dil is sitting up facing me with Leah behind him with towels pressed to the wounds. Blood is everywhere. "I can't get the bleeding to stop." She's nearly hysterical and I don't blame her. Dillon's eyes are hooded and he is far to pale for comfort. This is not good. "I have suture kits and bandages but I—I can't—"

"I got it, alright. We've got it." I so don't got it. Dillon is the medic. And he's nearly unconscious. I only know a handful more about all this than she does. We need Mel and Becky. They can fix it. The can fix him. "Drive fast."

* * *

><p>If speed limits still mattered we'd have been pulled over time and time again. What was a three and a half hour drive has become two. I will say a lot of things about him, but <em>damn<em>. That boy can drive. I'm surprised Wes was able to keep up. I'm even more surprised that Beckett and Olivia didn't fly out the back and hit the pavement. Or maybe they did. I've been a bit preoccupied. Blood covers my hands and forearms. There's a fair amount on my clothing too, and Leah looks the same. Dillion is laying between us, his chest rising with shallow breaths, and he's pale in a way that could never be mistaken for natural. He passed out some time ago but we were able to get the bleeding to stop. Thank god.

We're pulling up to the gate. Leighton barely leaves Ry and Chris time to open it all the way before he zooms through, straight up to the house instead of to the barn like we normally would. Mel and Becky are likely to be up there, one of them at least. Mel is a doctor, an equine veterinarian technically, but she's been able to translate her knowledge to humans so far. Becky, her mom, was an ER nurse for thirty years. She definitely knows her stuff. Becky and El are walking out the door as we pull into the drive. They must know something is wrong. Fuck. I do not need El freaking out right now. I'd rather have ben able to tell her after they'd started working on him.

Before the car is even in park, I'm flinging my door open, ready to help drag the limp body from the back seat and into the house. Leighton is at my side in an instant and the two of us somehow manage to remove Dil from the car without any further injury. Leighton bares the bulk of his weight but I'm still helping to support him. Jesus. You'd think with everything going on around us, we'd be losing more weight. This guy is still 220, easy. I can hear El flipping out behind us, and Leah trying to calm her down. Becky is asking questions I can't find the answers to. I _know_ what happened, but I can't seem to form words around those thoughts. Luckily Leighton can. He's explaining, and I feel Wes come up and take the load off my shoulders. Everyone is here now, having run up from the barn or the gate. _Why the hell did they leave the gate unattended? _

Everyone is talking at once. Screaming over each other. The Perkins brothers have disappeared into the house with Mel and Becky, but it doesn't dispel any of the chatter. El is by far the loudest, calling for a God she no longer believes in, begging for the life of her husband. Leah is still trying to calm her, while still trying to calm herself. Ryan and Chris are trying to wrangle the kids and ask questions about what happened. It's Patrick who asks the important question. The question I hear over all of the others. Ever-mindful Patrick. "Who are _they_?"

**THANKS FOR READING! ALSO, I'VE DECIDED THAT I WILL ONLY BE UPDATING ON TUESDAYS AND FRIDAYS FROM NOW ON. HOPEFULLY I CAN PRODUCE SOME LENGTHIER CHAPTERS THAT WAY. THANKS AGAIN AND REMEMBER TO REVIEW! XOXO**


	6. Chapter 6

Constant - Chapter 6

I'm standing on the back porch watching the sun fade away. It's seems so peaceful, like nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Instead of passing cars and tractors and the him of electricity, I hear the groans and moans of Cadavers. Instead of wood and wire fences surrounds our farm, I see the grotesque wall of cars and twisted metal we built for security, not style. Instead of the cool night breeze, I feel a harsh wind against my skin, chilling me to the bone. Still, my thoughts manage to wander, back to the earlier events of today.

* * *

><p><em>The words were like a cold bucket of water thrown against their skin. Collectively, my friends all turned to look at the two strangers, drinking them in, before focusing on me. Why must I always be the one in question? I gulp, hoping no one noticed and begin. "Beckett and Olivia. We found then out on the run." <em>

_It's simple, to the point and not a lie. It should suffice for now. Until Leah speaks up. "She's the one who shot D." Then all hell breaks loose. _

_Eyes and angry words flash towards the pair of siblings, and then towards me. I tune it out. I'm too tired for all of this. Too worn out. I just want to sleep but I know I won't. My head is pounding. I want to walk away and hide from all the leers and angry words but I feel a small pulling at my hand._

_It's Jax looking up at me with wide eyes. "Nennie hurt?" _

_I smile at his use of my nickname, the one he gave me so long ago. "No baby, I'm fine. Why don't you and Ana go grab some food for our new friends. I'm sure they're hungry." I don't care if they're starving or if they just ate a kings feast. I don't like Ana, and especially Jax, witnessing arguments like this. There's enough bad in the world as it is, they should be saved from at least this. _

_Chris watches his daughter, holding into the hand of the little boy, walk away before stepping towards me. Confusion fills his eyes and I'm expecting venom to lace his words, but I'm mistaken. "Len? What's going on? Why are they here?" He's concerned. Of course he is. Why would did I think it would be different? I should know better. This is Chris. I've known him longer than anyone else at this point. Ten years of friendship with a constant undercurrent of something more has made us close. I know him sometimes better than I know myself, and likewise. Why would I think he would be anything other than worried? _

_I can feel seven sets of eyes on me but I stay focused on one. Maybe if I show my emotions through my own eyes he'll get it. He'll understand. Even if I don't. "I couldn't just leave them to die." _

_And he understands._

* * *

><p>Night has fallen. It's even colder out now than before. I wasn't built for these temperatures. I am <em>definitely<em> not a cold-weather animal. Give me the burning sun and sweaty nights any day. I don't like the cold. But winter is on it's way and won't be delayed. This one is going to be a killer. Last year, well within it's rights, was cold. But not as cold as it could of been. It was actually fairly mild. That's how I know this year will be terrible. Kentucky winters _with _central heating were bad enough. Kentucky winters _without_ central heating might just be the end of us. But at least we're not in Minnesota.

I'm not sure if we've made enough preparations. That's why we went on that run yesterday, why we went so far from home. We needed things from every shop in that strip mall, but now I don't know if the others will be willing to risk it again. At least they cleaned out the pharmacy. But the baby store, and that department store. We'll have to go back. We have to. El is going to need those bottles and diapers, not to mention the crib and any formula or food. We'll all need the warm clothing from the department store, along with any other little treasures. Shoes, boots. Jax and Ana are growing out of theirs. I could do with a second pair. All of us could. We'll have to go back.

* * *

><p>"<em>Okay," he says. "If you're sure." And I nod. He turns to the odd pair then, with a small smile. "I'm Chris. Hungry?"<em>

_Beckett is saved from answering by the slamming of the side door. Leighton. He's covered in blood. HIs brother's blood. _His _blood. He looks at me, eyes wide and full of fury, but I can't look away. He doesn't say anything, just burns me with his glare, nostrils flaring. Then he walks away._

_He's too mad to even yell? To scream at me? This is not good._

* * *

><p>The others are all inside now. We all ate dinner up at the main house for once. Well, they did. I couldn't find the will to eat. El is practicing her mothering on Dil, who's awake. We'll see how long that lasts. Beckett and Olivia, after showering and eating, have gone to bed, using my room. They didn't want to be separated tonight. I can understand that. They must be exhausted. <em>And I'm not sleeping anytime soon, might as well use mine. <em>After tending to D, Becky helped Leah with dinner and Mel went to entertain the kids. Ry and Chris went back to their spots on watch, and Patrick is sorting through the bag we managed to return with. I haven't seen Leighton since he stormed off earlier. I'm just waiting for the bomb to drop. _Anytime now. _

I just continue to stand here in the chill.

* * *

><p>It's late now, nearly midnight. I'm a popsicle. Even with three layers of shirts, my lucky leather jacket, leggings under jeans and my favorite pair of boots, I'm as close to frozen as I'll get without traveling to Arendalle. I decide to go in search of the only friend I'm positive I still possess. While the others accepted the newcomers rather reluctantly, Chris was the only one to not blink twice. Because he understood. Or maybe it was just out of loyalty. Either way, he's the one person I know who won't turn me away right now. And I don't want to be alone. Not tonight.<p>

He's right where I expected him to be; tucking Ana into bed. At five, she insists on staying up later than "the baby" and often doesn't relinquish consciousness until Chris is available to put her in bed after his watch. She's very particular when it comes to her remaining parent. She's only just getting over her almost unhealthy attachment to her father. But I guess that's what happens when your "doting" mother tries to drown you in the bathtub. Just for the record, let's point out that I warned Chris about Jeni in the beginning, and he ignored me. After _The Incident_, he decided that a fresh start would be the best thing for Ana, and the two of them made the 300 mile move, renting a small house less than 5 minutes away from the farm.

But that was more than a year ago, and the pair have since moved into my small apartment down by the barn. I tried giving them the bigger of the two bedrooms, but Chris insisted that I keep what was mine. It's not like he doesn't come crawl into my bed once Ana is asleep anyway. A bed that is always empty, I might add. I'm a night owl, usually taking the night shifts on the wall, but even if I wasn't _that _would still never happen. Chris and I have a very thick line when it comes to physicality. Sure, he's the guy I go to if I need to talk, or scream, or fight, or cry, or flirt, or a confidence boost. But we'll never go _there_. Mostly because A, I don't like being touched, as in ever, B, sex is messy and complicated and we would never be able to hold onto our already awesome friendship if we went there, and C, I know _WAY_ too many of the people he's slept with. Well, knew. The majority of them are probably dead now. Either way, we've never done more than a quick hug and a rare kiss on the cheek, and I'm happy with it that way. He's my best friend and it's going to stay that way.

I stand in the doorway to Ana's room as he finishes tucking the blankets in around her. She looks so young and peaceful. You'd almost think it was a normal day, and this was a normal life. He looks at me in question and I ask, "Whiskey, vodka, or rum?" He cocks an eyebrow and gives me a smirk. Yeah, I was thinking whiskey too. I walk back out into the kitchen/living room and open a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Jack and two glasses. On second thought, who needs glasses? I don't feel like washing them out later. Plopping down onto my side of the couch, I unscrew the lid and take a long sip. Ach. The first is always the worst. Passing him the bottle I look directly into his eyes and ask, "What do you think?" He'll know what I mean.

After taking his own gulp, much larger than my own, he turns back to me, eyes focusing on mine. "What do _you _think?" He passes the bottle back.

Crap. What _do _I think? I have no idea. I don't know anything these days. "I don't know. I don't think they're bad people." But they could be. Lord knows there are a considerable amount of bad people in the world today. I take another sip and hand it back to him.

"She shot Dillion." He doesn't sound accusatory, just factual. This is exactly why I can talk to Chris. He doesn't judge. At least not while I'm trying to figure things out for myself.

"That was an accident," I say. And it was. Even Leah said so. He takes a smaller sip and then the Jack is back in my grasp.

He nods. "True. But that doesn't explain why you brought them back here."

He's right, it doesn't. I take a drink, and then another. Why _did _I bring them here? I knew it would piss off Leighton, but if that was my goal, there are easier ways of achieving that without risking the group. I have no idea if they'll be of any use, or if either of them have any skills. I don't even know their last name. Maybe I will go with that insanity plea. My head is starting to get fuzzy. I always was a lightweight. At least somethings stay the same. "Yeah, guess it doesn't." He looking at me with those understanding eyes. It's driving me crazy. "What do you want me to say?" Those eyes. I take in all of him. His dirty blonde curls, shorter than when we first met, but longer than Jeni made him keep them. His full lips, plenty of girls have felt against their own. His hands, so strong, but so gentle and caring. And those eyes. Those damn hazel eyes that can read the writings on my soul.

My mother said we were soul mates once, Chris and I. Because we always came back to each other, no matter how often we were pushed apart. we're constant. I told her she needed to rework her definition of "soul mates." Sure, we've been friends for so long that the thought of _not _being friends physically hurts, and we basically know what the other one is thinking with just a look. And we talk about absolutely everything. But soul mates? We'd kill each other five seconds into that relationship. Just because we get along famously most of the time doesn't mean we get along all of the time. Our arguments are like fighting through a war. And there's usually just about that much damage as well. The only other person I've ever fought with like that is Leighton, and hell to the no, we are certainly not soul mates. _Sorry mom, guess you'll have to try again._

He still hasn't said anything. Still just looking at me with _those eyes_ and waiting for me to respond. We might as well sit here until the sun rises. I don't know why, just that I had to. Isn't that enough?Of course it's not. _Because I said so _is not going to fly this time. But my mind is blank. _Why, why why?_ I've got nothing. So I keep on drinking, to flow my thinking.

**THERE'S CHAPTER SIX! LET ME KNOW IF YOU THINK THE FORMAT FOR THIS ONE WAS CONFUSING, OR IF IT WORKS. THANKS FOR READING AND PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW! XOXO**


	7. Chapter 7

**HI! SO I GOT A LOT OF WORK DONE ON THIS STORY TODAY AND DECIDED TO GO AHEAD AND POST CHAPTER 7. HOPE YOU LIKE IT! PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW! XOXO**

Constant - Chapter Seven

I'm vaguely aware that someone is trying to wake me up, but I know that if I open my eyes I will be assaulted with the cruelty that is daylight, and the headache already present will intensify. I really need to stop drinking so much.

"Nennie. Nennie! Gotta feed da pigs!" Jax. Oh Jax. Please stop. Let me sleep. "Nennie!"

I groan. "Okay, okay. I'm getting up." I don't want to get up. Or move. Even breathing seems like too much work. I hate pigs. I sigh, loudly and continue, "Go help Becky with breakfast." Anything to stop the noise. I love that boy. More than anything, I really do. But if he keeps talking I might die.

He leaves without another word, but of course he slams the door behind him. That's it. I've decided. I am dying. Right here, right now, this is it. My bed is moving. Why is my bed moving? I feel like this may be a bad sign. Clearly I'm worse off than I thought. But then my bed makes a noise. Since when does my bed talk? Oh that's right. I'm laying on top of a person, not my comfy mattress. Wait. I'm clothed, right? Yes. Good. That would be awkward. Especially since a three-year old was just in here.

I flash back to the last time I woke up with a hangover, next to a warm body. Nope. _Nope_. I am not thinking about that. Him. I will not give him the satisfaction, not even if this is just all in my head. My bed moves again. I tilt my face upwards and crack open an eyelid. Oh. It's just Chris. That's right. We were talking last night. And by talking I mean consuming a bottle of Jack Daniels. That explains things. And why my mouth is disgusting. I need to brush my teeth. And shower. And find a dark hole to hide out in until this pounding inside my head stops. Today is not going to go well.

I roll off of Chris and the couch, directly onto the cold tile floor. Walking sounds absurd. Actually, being upright sounds absurd. I can take a shower while sitting down, right? Either way, I'm going to find out. I crawl the ten or so feet over to the bathroom door and push myself inside, shutting the door. Darkness. Yes. I can handle this. After starting the water I set about undressing, which is about as bracing as it sounds. The stiffness of drunkenly sleeping on top of someone else, paired with my injuries from three, _has it really only been three days?_, days ago, has made my body fairly feeble. I'm starting to think that dying on that conch might have been the way to go.

Somehow, and that's a big somehow, I manage to clean myself up enough so that I can at least walk in a straight line, somewhat gracefully. Now my issue is new clothing. I didn't bring any in here with me, and if I remember correctly, my refugees are in my bedroom. So I can either put on my old clothes, not going to happen, or walk into my occupied room in nothing but a towel. Embarrassment it is then. Maybe they're not even in there anymore. There's no saying how long I slept. _Hey. I slept._ And I didn't wake up thrashing from nightmares. That's progress.

I open the bathroom door and take a peek. No one, except for Chris who's still passed out on the couch. I check the towel I've wrapped around myself, making sure it won't fall, and take a step outside. Creeping towards my bedroom door, I plan out my moves. I know exactly what I'm grabbing and where they are. I'll be in and out without them even noti—

_They locked the door_. Of course they locked the door. Why wouldn't they? I mean, we could be murderous psychos, intent on offing them as soon as they let their guard down. _Yeah, that's exactly why I brought you back here in the first place._ Fan-freaking-tastic. Well. I need something to wear. And all of my clothes are in there. So I knock.

Dreamy, _Beckett_, opens the door almost immediately, as if he was standing there waiting for someone to burst in and attack. Actually, that's probably exactly what he was doing. It's what I would do. When he sees my lack of weaponry, he takes in the sight of me fully, eyes widening and eyebrow rising a bit in question. _Chill out dude, I'm not here to jump you_. "I need clothes."

He looks at me like I've said the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "And you want me to—?"

I roll my eyes, so over this conversation already. I've got things to do, people to hide out from. "Move. You're in my room. I need clothes."

His mouth falls into an O and he steps aside to allow me into the room. I look around, noticing that the girl is still asleep on my bed and their bags are sitting right next to the door, weapons on top. Ready to run. I head towards my dresser, picking out a bra and panties, then a tank top from the next drawer and a pair of jeans from the bottommost drawer. Lifting a pair of socks from the next row of drawers, I move towards my closet, choosing a maroon sweater and a light grey zip-up. He's watched me through this whole ordeal, probably making sure I won't pull a weapon from my underwear drawer and try to stab him. To be fair, I do have a knife in my underwear drawer, but I'm guessing he knows that. The first thing I'd do when entering a new room, would be to look for items that could be used for or against me. I'm guessing he's picked up that trick too.

"What?" I barked out harshly. I turned to see him scanning me from head to toe. Normally I wouldn't care, boys will be boys and all that, but considering that I'm covered in nothing but a towel, he was making me fairly uncomfortable. His eyes stopped just below where the towel stopped and I blushed. _Could you be any less obvious?_

"Your boyfriend do that?" He sounded angry. Do what? Looking down at myself I realized what he was talking about. In the dim lighting of the bathroom I couldn't see the damage Matt had inflicted. Sure I felt it, but seeing and feeling are two very different things.

There are bruises, purple and splotchy all over my inner thighs, and a long cut above my left knee. I know how this looks, and what he must think. Embarrassment floods my cheeks as I shake my head. "It's not like that. I was-" I was what, attacked? I guess that would describe it. But I was the one who was doing the attacking, really. I just did a bad job of it. _Hold on a minute_. "Boyfriend?"

He let's out a small laugh. "Yeah. Prince Charming," he says, as if that's supposed to make sense to me. Who is he-? Oh.

"Leighton. He is SO not my boyfriend." As if.

He raises an eyebrow. "Who was it then?" Ugh. Can we not do this please?

I sigh. "It was nobody. I'm fine." I really don't want to talk about this right now. Or ever. Why can't people just let it go?

His mouth falls into a frown and his brows furrow. He takes a step towards me and I automatically take one backwards, away from him. I am naked after all. "If there's something I need to know about, to protect my sister, you are going to tell me." His voice is demanding and a bit menacing.

My eyes widen. And I open my mouth to speak, but I have no words prepared. He's standing close to me, eyes burrowing into my own waiting for an answer, ready to chastise me if I omit anything important. It makes me nervous. But he wouldn't hurt me, would he? He could. I know nothing about this man or his tendencies. I could have rescued a psychopath for all I know. "I-It's-" His stare continues to boar into mine. "He's gone. It's over," I manage. He may be gone, but it's definitely not over.

He keeps staring for a moment more, trying to gage if I'm lying. Satisfied, he nods and turns away, marking my cue to leave. Clutching onto my clothing, I skittle back to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, I take a deep breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Finally the weight of what I've done hits me. _I brought strangers to my home_. Our home. The one I share with Jax and Chris, and the other people who have become like family to me. I don't know anything about these people. Sure, he could've been classmates with Dil, and she's only a year or two younger than Leah. But that doesn't mean anything in this new world. What if they're dangerous? What if they try to steal what we have, or are part of another group who will wipe us out? I know nothing about these people. _What have I done?_

Once I'm fully outfitted in my new duds, I head back out towards the living room with the intent of waking Chris for his own hangover routine. But he's already up and gone. Sometimes I hate his level of alcohol tolerance. Lucky son of a bitch. Sitting down in the couch I pull on my boots and lace them up. I'll have to get a new knife to replace the one I lost. And hopefully Leah picked up my others from the bar and grill.

Ready to face the outdoors, I open my front door and quickly throw it shut again. So. Much. Sunlight. _I need sunglasses_. Now where did I put those? After finding a pair I try for Outside: Take 2 and open the door again. _Much better_. I walk down towards the barn, spotting Jax and El feeding the pigs. Guess he got tired of waiting for me. I change directions and head over. No doubt El is going to want to talk to me about yesterday. Or yell, as she's prone to do these days.

I reach the edge of the pen and give what I hope to be a smile, and a "Hey." She doesn't seemed too mad. But that could change.

"Nennie, you took for-EV-er!" Jax bursts out. He's loud. Oh so loud.

But I grin and laugh. "Yeah bud, that's what happens when you get old." He giggles and starts chasing one of the piglets. I turn towards El, waiting.

"You alright?" she asks. Maybe this'll go better than I thought.

I nod at her. "Yeah, I'm fine." I feel as though that's all I say these days. "How's D?"

It's her turn to give a small smile. "Mel says he'll be fine with a couple'a days rest. She says it would've been much worse if you hadn't gotten back here so quickly." Quickly? It was a two hour drive that might as well have lasted forever.

I nod and smile again, showing my elation. "That's good. Really good. Leighton was the one drive though. You should thank him." As much as I hate to admit it, he pulled through for us yesterday.

"He's not here."

My mouth falls open, dropping the smile and eyes narrowing. "Where is he?"

She just shrugs. "I dunno. He left early this morning, took the truck. Said he'd be back later." _What. The. Actual. Fuck._

"He left by himself?!" I growl out, My voice growing with disbelief. The sounds hurts my own ears and increases the pounding in my head.

El just shrugs again and cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah. He did. You're not the only one who's allowed to make stupid, dangerous decisions without consulting anyone else." And there we have it folks. If there's one thing Eloise Cleary-Perkins is good at, it's throwing shade.

"Just because I'm a bad example doesn't mean others should copy me. When is he going to be back?" I bite out. The freaking idiot. If there's one thing I think we've learned in the past, it's not to go anywhere alone.

She sighs. "I don't know. He just came in to check on Dillon and then left. But he'll be fine. It's just Leighton after all." Yeah. Leighton. The no-good, dumbass, jerk faced asshole who-

"Hey sunshine." Ry. He whispers it in my ear but it might as well of been shouted through a megaphone.

"Dude," I whine out. Can no one see the state I'm in?

"Your newbies up yet? Figured we'd all have a nice chat when Lee gets back," he says. Ryan's a nice guy. Always happy. And loyal. Kind of like a puppy dog. But I doubt he'd be so happy if the Perkins brothers ever found out he's been sneaking into Leah's room after everyone's in bed. I'm fact, I'm fairly certain he'd be the exact opposite of happy and sporting a few new injuries.

I sigh loudly. Despite the fact that I'm pissed about him leaving on his own without backup and a timeframe, I'm dreading Leighton's return. The only reason he'd have left like that is if he's trying to cool down and clear his mind. Or he's coming up with a really good argument that'll make me regret ever being born. Or both. Either option is feasible. And I am seriously not in a mood to be yelled at today. "I don't know. Sort of. I figure they'll come out when they're ready."

He nods understanding and gives me a grin. "Damn Len. You look like shit."

"Yeah I know, asshole," I laugh and his smile grows. "You're not exactly looking so hot yourself."

Although his smile remains, it does decrease in size and his eyes grow sad. "Yeah. Leah was up all night, worried about D. And—" he stops, and I raise my brows at him. "Tif, Matt. She's afraid he'll come back. Tif still hasn't said anything."

My mood instantly depresses. But if any of us have an excuse to check out for a few days, it's Tiffany. What Matt did to me was child's play compared to her and Riane. I don't doubt for a second that he'll come back. Leighton should hav—

"Len, maybe you should go check in on her," El suggests, cutting off my thoughts. Yeah, maybe I should.

"She still up at the house?" I ask and El nods her conformation. "I'll go now," I say, and I start walking away up the hill towards the main house. "Make sure he washes his hands!" I throw back, motioning to Jax, and she waves her goodbye.

The main house is about 500 yards away from the barn and my apartment, up a slight hill. I used to walk this everyday, multiple times, when I was on my way to and from work. Nannying for Jax was the best decision I've ever made, and the best job I ever could have hoped for, though sometimes it seems like another life. Someone else's life. Like I'm watching a movie about an alternate universe. Man, I miss movies.

When I reach the front door I stop for a moment to contemplate what I'm going to say. What do you say to someone who's been assaulted like that? I have no experience in this, no idea what to say, what not to say. I feel like I should, but I don't. It's not like I can magically make it all better. I know I can't. But what am I supposed to say? _Sorry Tif, I didn't realize he was a complete psychopath until it was too late, and even then I couldn't do anything. _Or maybe _Sorry he raped and killed your best friend, and then tried to do the same to you, and then me. _Or better yet, _Sorry I didn't run fast enough. _Yeah. No. Maybe I just won't say anything.

I open the door and walk inside. It's quiet. The kitchen and living/family room are empty. That's strange, even with all that's been going on lately. But then I hear a faint voice coming from the guest bedroom. They must still have her in that room. I walk over to the cracked doorway, looking inside. Becky's back is to me and she's reading aloud from a book. Nicholas Sparks. _Not sure a tearjerker is a good idea, but whatever, it's not my life. _I knock softly on the doorframe and she turns in her seat, giving me a big smile. Becky really is one of the most kindhearted, genuinely good people I've known in my entire life. She's definitely the mothering type and has adopted each member of our unconventional crew. She always knows exactly what I need, even if I don't. I don't know what we'd do without her here.

She pats the bed beside her and pulls me close when I sit down. "How're you feeling honey?"

I look at her concerned face and I know that couldn't lie to her even if I tried. "I don't know." Which is the truth. I haven't wanted to sort out my feelings, so I didn't. Now I'm all muddled. I shake my head and look away, down to Tiffany's still form. God it's bad. She looks worse off than the last time I checked in on her. I'm surprised she's still alive. Her face is black and blue, swollen beyond recognition, with various cuts here and there. Her nose is broken. Maybe even her jaw too. She has the same bruising around her neck that I have. Her arms in the same state, with rope burns around her wrists. The rest of her body is covered by blankets and I think it's better that way. I don't want to think about what he did to the rest of her body. Tears are starting to form in my eyes. _Fuck. Why didn't I run faster? Why couldn't I have done something? I should have known._

"It isn't your fault." Her words break me out of my thoughts. "You couldn't have known." It's like she's reading my mind. Just like Leighton did. Maybe I'm more transparent than I think. "There was nothing you could have done. For Tiffany or Riane. That-boy is a sick, sick human being and he will be judged for what he's done. But that's why there are people like you in the world. I have no doubt that you will find him, and stop him from hurting anyone else. But in order to do that, you need to heal. Dwelling in the past will only hinder you, and you need to be strong to survive this fight. And I KNOW that you will survive this. We all will. I KNOW how strong you are. I've seen it, time and time again. But you need to put the past away. All of it. You need to mend, not just your body, but your mind and your soul. Trust your gut. Trust our family. Trust yourself. And let it all go."

For a moment I consider what she's said. _Let it all go._ But how much is all of it? How far back am I supposed to reach? "What if I can't?"

"You can. You will. I know you. There is no one more determined and tough as you. You can do anything you want. But never be afraid to admit that you need help. That you need _someone_. None of us can make it alone." I wonder for a second if now she's talking about something else entirely. It wouldn't be the first time her words have had multiple meanings. She's good like that. I guess I'm quiet for a minute because she stands up and says, "Why don't you sit with her for awhile. I need to check on Dillon anyway," and she leaves the room.

I look back down at Tiffany and feel my heart ache again. She looks so fragile, nothing like the fighter I've come to know. _Humans are the cruelest of the animal kingdom. _But we're also the most resilient. The most capable. Becky is right. I will find Matt and I will stop him. Even if it's the last thing I do. _I just need to heal._


	8. APOLOGY

**I AM SO SORRY. I HAVE BEEN IN THE PROCESS OF MOVING FROM KENTUCKY TO FLORIDA, ON TOP OF WORKING FULL TIME AND MY CLASSES, I HAVE HAD NO TIME TO WRITE ANYTHING. BUT I ****_WILL_**** POST A CHAPTER TOMORROW. I PROMISE. SWEARS.**

**XOXO**

**AURORAROSEANE**


	9. Chapter 9

**I AM A HORRIBLE TERRIBLE LIAR. I'M SO SORRY! ON TOP PF SOME MAJOR WRITER'S BLOCK, THIS MOVE IS TAKING MORE OUT OF ME THAN I THOUGHT. NOT TO MENTION SCHOOL AND WORK, AND I APPARENTLY HAVE A SEX(?!) LIFE NOW. HAHA. ANYWAY, HERE IS A VERY SHORT CHAPTER TO TIE YOU OVER. THIS IS MOSTLY JUST FILLER AND I DON'T LIKE HOW IT TURNED OUT AT ALL. OH WELL. IT'S BETTER THAN NOTHING. I'VE ALREADY STARTED ON CHAPTER NINE BTW! THANKS FOR BEING SO PATIENT! XOXO**

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><p>Constant - Chapter Eight<p>

Checking in on Tif has taken a lot out of me, mostly due to the emotional deliberation from my conversation with Becky. And my raging hangover. I probably should've taken some aspirin earlier. But there's no sense in wasting meds on something I did to myself. I'll just have to live with it. Walking out of the bedroom Tif's in, I head towards the kitchen to grab whatever leftovers there are from breakfast. Sitting in pans on the stove are some sausage patties and a type of potato mixture, along with some scrambled eggs. I scoop some of each onto a plate and grab a fork, taking a bite. It's room temperature now, seeing as how late in the morning it is, and I spin around to go sit at the counter. I stagger back almost as soon as I do, having almost run right into Patrick. _Patrick. _In the seven months since the Home group has been here, I've done pretty well at avoiding him. Well, as much as I can living in a world with only 14 other people in it. _15 now, I suppose. _I've gotten pretty efficient at dodging any one-on-one time as well as making sure we have differing watch schedules. It's not that I hate him or anything. Not really. I just don't want to be anywhere near him. Because being near him makes me think about when I _really _didn't hate him. About when he was my best friend. When he was my everything. And I really don't want to think about that.

Saying that things ended badly between Patrick and I would be a lie. Because there wasn't really anything to end. He was my friend, he made me think that he loved me, and then he took it all back. But he was never my boyfriend. Never anything more than a friend. _Except that we slept together. _So there is that. I lost my virignity to my friend who told me he loved me, and then afterwards he took it all back and abandoned me. I must be really bad in bed.

So bypassing any time with Patrick that isn't necessary is my go to defense. And like I said, I'm good at it. That being said, turning around and finding him standing almost directly behind me is a bit startling to say the least. It's not like I'm the only one who's been avoiding a tete-a-tete. Until now, seeing as he apparently wants to have a conversation with me. Either that or he's suddenly taken on the role of a creeper. But hey, Matt's gone. The spot is open.

But just because Patrick has decided to end our disparities doesn't mean I want anything to do with him. I move to step around him and plan on bolting out the door, food or no food. However, he moves back into my space and blocks my path. _Oh my God, leave me alone. _But it is not to be.

"Are you alright?"

My head snaps up and I give him my best death glare. _You're asking me if I'm alright?! Are you FUCKING kidding me?! _But I say nothing. I just glare.

He doesn't move, but his face shows his worry. _Yeah, you should be scared. What are you thinking?! _He shifts around a bit, nervously. "I'm just—I want to—I—"

I stop him there, furious. "For the millionth time, I'm fine. Don't ask me again, don't speak to me again." How _dare_ he? I'm fully intent on getting away from him now, there's no way I can remain in his vicinity without punching him. Then again, that could help me a bit with some stress relief. Turning to get away from him, I manage to take one step before I feel his hand on my wrist. _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! _

But as I round to start the verbal shitstorm readily forming, El walks through the door. I turn back to face her, thankful she's stopped me from committing murder. She's out of breath and her cheeks are a bit red. "Leighton's back." Her eyes are on mine, probably trying to gauge my level of panic. She knows what's about to happen. He's been gone for most of the day, either cooling off or fuming. Knowing Leighton, he's seething.

It would seem if Patrick knows the atmosphere has changed as well. He drops his hand, releasing his grip and backs away. _Thank God for small favors. _I sigh. Loudly and unnecessarily. Nothing is going to prepare me for this. Maybe if I run, now, and never come back? No. I couldn't leave Jax. Maybe if I fake a major injury? Nah, he'd still yell at me if I was puking blood and missing both legs. This is going to be bad. _Very, very bad_.

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><p><strong>OH! ANNNNNNND CHAPTER NINE IS GOING TO BE IN LEIGHTON'S POV! THANKS FOR READING! XOXO<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**HI GUYS! AS ALWAYS, THANKS FOR READING! I WANTED TO OUT SAYING THAT THIS CHAPTER IS WRITTEN IN LEIGHTON'S POV. AND PLEASE PLEEEEEEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT IT. I TRIED TO GET INSIDE A GUY'S MIND BUT AS THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE, I TRIED MY BEST. TELL ME IF IT WORKS!**

**MAKERLOVERREADING: THIS CHAPTER ADDRESSES SOME OF THOSE 'CHOICES', AND A BIT OF LENNIE/LEIGHTON BACKGROUND. THE PERKINS' FAMILY CONSISTS OF DILLON (27), LEIGHTON (23), WES (20), AND LEAH (19). THERE WERE TWO OTHER BROTHERS BUT, YOU KNOW, ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE.**

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><p>Constant - Chapter Nine<p>

LEIGHTON POV

She is an idiot. It's that simple. How can she be so fucking stupid _all the time?_ Maybe not all the time. But a good portion of it. Lennie is easily one of the dumbest bitches I've ever met. Emphasis on the bitch. It's one thing to threaten her own safety, but this time she's pulled the rest of us into it as well. And for what, some little girl and her asshole brother? _Who we don't even know._ She's got a death wish. She has to. Hell, I'll kill her myself at this point. We'd probably be better off.

That's a lie. We need Lennie. And by _we_ I don't mean me. I don't need her. The hell if I ever need Lennie Gibson. That'll be the day. Not. No I don't need her, the group does. As much as I hate to admit. If they didn't, she'd be gone. Especially after this. How could she be so fucking stupid?!

Actually I'm surprised she hasn't lost it before now, with all the shit that's happened. I was sure after the Matt thing she'd be done, through with it all. If it was anybody else, they'd be curled up in bed, mid-breakdown, and unable to function. But not her. I think that's the problem. She's functioning _too _well. I mean hell, look at Tiffany. She's near catatonic, but Lennie, Lennie is just peachy. Except that she's not. And she's going to get us all killed. Goddammit.

I'm not trying to be insensitive. Three months ago I would've wanted to save them too. I would've saved them. But not now. Not _three fucking days _after Matt. Matt. If I ever get my hands on that prick he's gonna wish he was dead. She was right about one thing. I should have killed him when I had the chance. But how was I supposed to do that, when she was lying there like she was? Like Rianna was? Does she not understand? Of course not. She's insane. Which should be no surprise really.

I need to sleep. I didn't sleep for shit on the couch, and then with Len attacking me in her sleep. I didn't really sleep much after Matt left. I couldn't then. And I sure as hell ain't gonna go to sleep here with that asshole around. Not around my sister and the others. I don't know shit about him. So I sure as hell ain't about to let my guard down around him. But I do need the sleep. I'm running on empty here. Nah. I don't need sleep. I need to clear my head. Get rid of all this shit running through so I can focus on giving Lennie the tongue-lashing of her life. God, she is a fucking idiot. And we need to get rid of those two freeloaders.

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><p>Hunting isn't the same as it used to be. Back in the day, us guys would go to with dad for the weekend and half-ass it. But I can't do that. Not anymore. Not when whatever I'll catch, or not catch, could mean us starving. So I've got to focus. And luckily, hunting has always helped me to clear my head. Even when I was a kid. Even when we were just fooling around. <em>Focus. <em>Gotta find some tracks. Tracks. The last time I was out here we were following a deer. Lennie and I. She's pretty good at tracking even though she's basically just started learning how. It was later in the day and she was being less snappy than usual. But she wouldn't say why, which was fine with me. One of the few things I do like about Len she that she doesn't feel the need to talk about all the shit going through her mind. That's a Godsend compared to all the other women I know.

But she's always been quiet. Shy. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. For as long as I've known her, she's always been that way. Which is fine. I couldn't give two shits either way. But I remember that it bothered me that night. Everything bothered me that night. It was like the world was off it's cosmic balance. And it was. Somehow I knew. Must of been instinct. I knew the second we came up to that cabin that something was wrong. _I knew_. And I knew as soon as we walked in things were going to shit.

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><p>"<em>Dude, we have to check it out. There could be supplies inside."<em>

_Ha. Yeah right. This place looks like it had been abandoned long before the end of the world. And I told her as much. But she brushed me off. Big surprise. _

_It happened in a rush. One minute we're standing outside and the next we're inside a decrepit bedroom, looking down at a _Cad _strapped to a bed. Not just strapped, bound. Spread out and tied down, naked, bloody. She was a blonde. It's impossible to tell how she died, she's been here awhile, but I'm guessing it has to do with the cut marks lining her frame. This girl was tortured, probably raped, and murdered. It's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen and I can feel bile rising in my throat. But before I can do anything about it, I hear a gasp and the slam of a door. _What the fuck? _Lennie. She's not in the room anymore. What is she—_

_But then I see it. The bracelet. Riane never took it off. Not once, no matter how many times it got tangled in something. She never took it off. This girl, this girl is wearing the bracelet. _Riane_. Riane, who was last seen with Matt. Matt, who told us the _Cads_ got her. Matt, who is back at the farm right now._

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><p>I shake my head. I can't think about this now. I need to focus. I need to kill something so that I don't rip Lennie's head off when I get back. Stupid girl. She's literally killing me. I can't see through her logic, if there was any to begin with. Two strangers? She's risking our lives for two strangers? She who is <em>so <em>cautious? She's fucking lost it. Wouldn't be the first time though, would it? I mean, she did have sex with me. And if that doesn't prove that she's out of her mind, I don't know what does.

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><p><em>It's early. Even though it's barely light out, my internal clock is screaming "Wake up!" Although that could have something to do with whoever is fidgeting beside me. Seriously, what are you doing? Can't you just lay here silently until I have to get up for class. Or better yet, maybe you can help me be late for class. Classes. My classes. The last time I was in class we had to evacuate because of the virus. We went home, but everyone was gone, and then we went south. Into Kentucky and we found Lennie, the farm. Lennie. LENNIE.<em>

_They threw us a party, some sort of welcome. It was late and we were all exhausted. but we stayed up anyway. I mean, come one. They had booze. Who's gonna pass that up these days? So maybe I got a little bit drunk. And maybe I remember Lennie doing the same. And maybe I even remember going to bed with her. But one thing I certainly remember is the look she gives me when I turn over to face her. It's a mix of horror, shame and hatred. She's already halfway dressed and clearly trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. _So that's what all that movement was about.

_I open my mouth to say something, anything, but she beats me to it. "Don't." This one word is full of so much finality that I can't even argue. Once she's got her boots on, she stands and leaves the room. Later I see her burning the sheets. Way to kill my ego._

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><p>I don't think she realizes how utterly fierce she can be, when she tries. When she's confident enough. It's astonishing. In all the years I've know Lennie, I've only seen this level of certainty a few times. The first was back in high school, when I barely knew she existed. That's not true, I knew, I just didn't care. We weren't friends, didn't even hang out with the same people. Skaters, potheads and artsy types were not my thing. And I she definitely didn't fit it with the jocks and partiers I hung out with. The only overlap in our lives were honors classes. I swear, our high school had a serious shortage in smart kids. So the ones they had, were in all the same classes, for the most part.<p>

There was this one time, senior year when we were paired for a project. It was really the only time we'd ever spent five minutes in each other's presence and I was excited for it to be the last. Sure, she had that whole, old school beauty thing going on with her long brown hair and big eyes. Not to mention her fantastic rack. But I would never be caught dead hanging out with a loser like her. Something that I told my buddy Phil, not realizing that she was directly behind me. When I shifted to face her, I can only describe the scene as potent. I knew right then that this girl was not to be messed with. She turned ready to walk away, but she looked back at the last second, and my eyes found hers. I couldn't look away. Her voice was soft but unbelievably strong, and smooth, melodic. It was like a drug. "You know, you should really make sure you don't have shit on your face before you call someone a loser. Asshole."

We didn't stay in touch after graduation, but honestly, why would we? I remember hearing from somewhere that she dropped out of college in her first semester and moved to another state. But I still can't say that I cared.

The next time I saw her was after the outbreak. The six of us, D, Wes, Leah, Patrick, Ryan and I, had been walking for a long ass time. After leaving what remained of our hometown we decided to head south maybe towards Fort Knox. We were on the road for nearly three months and just about done. With everything. We'd gotten attacked by both people and _Cads_, run off-course multiple times and were half starved. After trying to avoid a herd near Louisville, we were heading straight for Lexington. Straight towards death if we hadn't been lucky. But we were lucky that day. And luck came in the form of Lennie Gibson.

* * *

><p><em>We're surrounded. Completely. There's no way in hell we're getting out of this one. Fuck. Fucking fuck. I'm going to die in this hick town and that will be that. I'm going to be eaten alive. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fu—<em>

_Something flies out of nowhere and the _Cad _about to take a chunk out of my arm is gone. Down on the ground. If I had time to look, I'd see that it had an arrow sticking out of it's forehead. But I don't. I'm still hacking away. There's at least 30 of them left. I can't see my sister. Or my brothers. I can't see anyone other than the dead. I just keep swinging away, trying to catch a glimpse of my family. _

_It seems almost suddenly that there are no more _Cads._ It's like they all just decided to die at once. Thank the fucking Lord. I'm alive. I turn to scan the area, looking for people, for my family. And they're all right there. They're fine, trying to catch their breath. But before I can make another move, I hear the all-too-familiar groans of the dead. I ready myself and spin around, in a fighting stance. But they are already being taken care of. By some whirling blur of a person. What the fuck? Seriously, I've never seen anyone move like this before. So graceful and fast. Is it even human?_

_When dead were finally dead again and she stood still I didn't even recognize her. She was covered in blood and flesh, her hair was in a mess and she was heaving from the exertion. Not to mention her clothing was unlike anything she'd worn through high school, and she had various weapons strapped to her body. She was a warrior. And nothing like the girl I once made fun of. I did however recognize her voice. So when she said, "Of course it's you. Assholes," I knew I was in for it._

* * *

><p>And standing in front of her now, holding a fighting stance that mirrors my own, I see her ferocity. She's yelling about something. I can barely remember what we fighting about in the first place. I sought her out after returning from my "hunt" and we got into it. Shouting and screaming in the middle of the yard. I vaguely remember the others disappearing, thankfully. They don't tend to stick around when we argue. But then the focus of our problems came out, probably to see what was going on. Maybe to see if murder would be involved. Everyone loves a good show.<p>

She's still yelling. I'm not even listening at this point. Neither of us is going to give in and what's done is done. I duck my head and give it a shake, before looking up to cut her off, intent on just getting out of this discussion. But when I do look up, there's movement behind her. Focusing in, my eyes widen. Chris. He's carrying Ana. Blood. There's blood everywhere. A scream erupts from somewhere and Lennie spins just in time to see a _Cad _ comes out of nowhere and takes a bit out of his neck. And then Lennie is the one screaming.

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><p><strong>PLEASE DON'T HATE ME FOR KILLING OFF CHRIS AND ANA! IT WAS ACTUALLY ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS I PLANNED OUT EVEN THOUGH I DIDN'T REALLY WANT TO. BUT, IT NEEDED TO BE DONE. PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW, AND THANK YOU FOR READING! XOXO<strong>


	11. MIDSEASON FINALE

**HI GUYS. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GOING TO TAKE AWHILE. I'VE BEEN WORKING ON IT, BUT AFTER TONIGHT'S EPISODE I REALLY DON'T THINK I WILL BE ABLE TO FUNCTION AT ALL FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE. THEN AGAIN, I MIGHT GET REALLY INSPIRED. BUT CURRENTLY, I'M STILL BAWLING MY EYES OUT. SO SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THE DELAY, I'LL TRY MY BEST.**

**XOXO AURORAROSEANE**

**EXTRA LOVE TO ALL THE BETHYL FANS!**


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